Heavy Plot Got Pete Johnson To Miami

AFTER SEVEN years as a friend and teammate of Pete Johnson, the Miami Dolphins` imposing fullback, I shouldn`t have been surprised at anything he`d say or do. And I should have heeded his predictions.

After all, this is the 5-foot-10-inch, 275-pound man who took $50 out of my pocket during training camp a few years ago by slam-dunking a basketball. I`ll never forget watching someone that large getting off the ground that high. It was like seeing a building flying through the air and landing with a huge thud on the floor boards.

This is the same guy who told me in 1981, after he was named first alternate to the Pro Bowl, that he wasn`t worried because someone would get hurt and he`d be in Hawaii with me anyway. Sure enough, in our first playoff game against Buffalo, Joe Cribbs went down with an injury and there was Pete in Waikiki a few weeks later representing the AFC.

So after Peter Johnson predicted three things to me late one night last January, instead of laughing and inwardly scoffing at him, I should have had my first scoop as a reporter.

I REMEMBER him telling me, ``Mac, I`m going to be out of Cincinnati in

`84 and I`m going to be playing for coach Shula in Miami.`` It was something he had predicted for years.

``And when I get out of Ohio,`` he said, ``I`m going to lose all of this extra weight and get back down to 255 pounds.``

Finally he told me: ``The next time I carry the ball against the San Francisco 49ers and I`m near the goal line, I`m going to score.`` I can still recall his eyes narrowing as he finished. ``I sure hope it`ll be in a Super Bowl someday,`` he said.

Well, here it is January, 1985, and Pete Johnson is indeed a Miami Dolphin. He weighs less than 260 pounds, and more than likely, he will get his chance to take on San Francisco`s goal-line defense in the Super Bowl once again.

I had to call him the other day and find out how he had managed to pull off all of this.

I FIRST questioned something I had read and wondered about: Had he intentionally eaten his way off the Bengals and into the 1985 Super Bowl? Pete will state the incredible with ease off the record, but when anything sounds or looks official, he`s a master of conning and evading reporters, management and coaches.

He first replied: ``Well, you know, I didn`t go directly to Miami. There was that little stop in San Diego earlier in the year, so I guess my plan wasn`t so perfectly executed.`` He had played three games as a Charger after Cincinnati traded him there. Then he was traded to Miami.

``But, Pete,`` I asked, pursuing the subject, ``did you eat yourself out of Ohio?``

He paused and I could sense his delight as he firmly stated, ``No comment.``

``What?`` I said. ``You can`t tell me that.``

``You`re a reporter now,`` he said simply, ``not just a friend, so after you put your pen down, I`ll own up, but not till then.``

I DROPPED MY pen and listened to what I had only suspected until then. Although I can`t quote him, he had indeed pulled off one of the most unusual ways in sports history of getting traded. I wondered how I could have doubted him back in January.

I recalled seeing him on television against the Raiders in December. Most of our team had stopped over at Kenny Anderson`s to watch the game. When the camera zoomed in on big No. 46, none of us could believe it was Pete. He was so thin, and when the announcer said he was down to a svelte 250 pounds, I had to laugh at myself again.

When I asked him how and why he had shed the extra 25 pounds he had carried in Cincinnati, he burst out laughing.

``That weight was only to prove something,`` he said. ``I wanted to show Forrest (Gregg, the Bengals` coach) and those nosy writers that I could play at 275 pounds. When Forrest finally told the press that he was dropping his weight restrictions on me, I thought about losing it right then. But I did want to get to Miami, so I just left it on for a few more months, even in San Diego, until I got here.``

``ANYWAY, MAC, if I wanted to play at 300 pounds, I could. I can carry any weight and still gain 1,000 yards if I`m given the ball 300 times a year.``

One of the most famous plays in Super Bowl history occurred in 1982 at Pontiac, Mich. Jack Reynolds and a host of 49er defenders made a dramatic tackle that stopped Pete short on fourth-and-goal from the one-foot line. I`ll never forget the amazed and totally perplexed expression on his face when he came to the sideline. He couldn`t believe he had been stopped.

A week later in Hawaii, he still was embarrassed by not scoring. He still was in shock too much to plot revenge or predict a different result if the same circumstances occurred again.

He`s certainly ready now. When I asked him about it the other day, he bit hard.

``Hey, you know I`ve been taking so much grief for so long about that and it wasn`t even all my fault,`` he said. ``Everyone in the world knew we were going to run that `47-in` (the play on which he was stopped). Some guys missed their blocks, but I should have scored anyway. No matter what happens this year, however, I`m going to get that ball in the end zone if we`re close. I promise.``

BELIEVE ME, I`ll never doubt Peter Johnson again. When the Dolphins get near the goal line this Sunday and No. 46 trots onto the field, I`ll be readying myself to go into the kitchen for a snack. I know there will be a television commercial after the touchdown, if they give Pete the ball.

I do believe he planned all of this, and I have no doubts he`ll pull it all off.